"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
The soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God who is our home."--WORDSWORTH.
I believe I have already said that in the battle of Manassas Joe Bellot was severely wounded. My companion gone, I messed and slept alone.
For a day or two we rested, or moved but short distances. On one of these days, the company being on picket, the Captain ordered me to accompany him in a round of the vedettes. While this duty was being done, he spoke not a word except to the sentinels whom he ordered in clear-cut speech to maintain strict vigilance. When the duty had ended, he turned to me and said, "Let us go to that tree yonder."
The point he thus designated was just in rear of our left--- that is, the left of Company H's vedettes--and overlooked both vedettes and pickets, so far as they could be seen for the irregularities of ground. Arriving at the tree, the Captain threw off all official reserve.
"Friday was hard on Company H," he said; "and the whole company did its full duty, if I may say so without immodesty."
"Captain," I replied, "I thought it was all over with us when the Yankees made that last charge."
"As you rightly suggest, sir, we should have been relieved earlier," said he; "I am informed that in the railroad cut, a little to the right of our position, the men fought the enemy with stones for lack of cartridges."
"Yes, sir; I have heard that. Can you predict our next movement?"
"I know too little of strategy to do that," he said; "but I am convinced that we cannot remain where we are."
"Why?" I asked.